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If you wish to interact with the Bear known as Zondar, you can always stop by Twitter.com/zondarthebear and follow his slurred, occasionally drunken, ramblings.
ZondarTheBear is a man. And a Bear. And a Zondar. Don't ask what any of that means, because attempting to answer you might make him drag his brain out of the rusty strongbox where he stores it, and nobody wants that, trust me.
Zondar's words of nasty fun do not come from Mayberry, or North Carolina nor anywhere else that you might take the wife and kiddies to visit on a sunny Spring day. The stuff that falls out of his mostly empty head comes from New Orleans, via the dark, wrinkled asshole of Satan's slutty daughter, and her almost-too-nice best friend, Karla Sue.
His stories are wet and nasty and they burrow deep into the shadows of those dark places that we all own, but mostly refuse to acknowledge. His stuff will always be teased from that dark dirty place with an oversized broken pencil, but he will always strive to bring a bit of golden light into the shadows of his disgusting prose, in spite of its soiled yellow origins.
Please be aware that these stories will never be run in front of an editor of any skill, because editors tend to cry blood from their melted eyeballs and stab themselves repeatedly after reading this content. As a result of their human frailties, you may find the occasional typographical error lurking in your story, waiting to jerk you from your fictional world. An apology for those errors that slip through is yours if you want it, but seriously folks, these things cost less than a comic book, I think that we'll both survive.